The Focus Group – Brad Pitt vs. Sean Faris
Brad Pitt was making movies when Sean Faris was in diapers. Both men generated a lot of buzz from fight movies, Brad 10 years before Sean. When Sean’s film hit bandwidth, he talked a lot of smack, including insisting that he could kick Brad’s ass. “He’s, what, 20 years older than I am? Hell, does he still have all his original joints?”
Eli Brody had made a lot of money from Brad’s films, and he expected to make a lot of money from Sean’s. But Eli was not pleased to have one member of his talent pool publicly trashing another. It wasn’t good for the bottom line. Eli sat in his office with a cocky Sean slumped in the chair in front of his desk, looking like he’d just been called into the principal’s office.
“Your media relations suck, Sean. The way you’ve handled yourself in the past year has made me question if you’re film quality. A recurring role in a daytime soap opera might be more your speed at this point in your career,” Eli chided.
Sean was furious. “What the fuck!? I’m golden and you know it! I have to have two bodyguards to keep the girls from ripping me apart when I walk down the street,” Sean bragged.
“Girls are certainly one component of a winning market strategy,” Eli conceded. “But I’m not bankrolling any more film projects for you without some clear evidence that you can draw the size and diversity of audiences I need to justify my investment.” Sean sulked bitterly. “You will be in Seattle at this address tomorrow” Eli handed him a card. “You’ve got something good. My instincts tell me that you can be a big star,” Eli said, grabbing his crotch beneath his desk. “But I will not stake my fortune or political power on a not-ready-for-primetime punk. I’ll be pulling together a focus group and mixing you up with someone else from my talent pool. Come ready to show some passion and win over some new fans, or don’t come at all.”
Sean knocked on an unmarked door in a back alley behind an anonymous brick building. A massively muscled blond hunk opened the door and waved Sean in, instructing him to change clothes in a dressing room at the end of the hallway. Sean walked down the dark hallway past door-less, dark rooms with groans coming from inside. Men stood in the hallway wearing nothing but towels around their waists, looking Sean up and down as he walked to the end of the hall. At the end of the hall, Sean found the empty room where he was supposed to change clothes. The only thing there for him to change into was a white towel.
Eli walked up as Sean was frozen, the towel in his hand, uncertain of what to do. “You’ll need to take your clothes off, wrap that around your waist, and then follow me.” Sean looked uncomfortable, but pulled off his training jacket, sweatpants, and tennis shoes, and stepped out of his boxer briefs, turning away from Eli. He wrapped the towel around his waist, then turned and followed Eli down the hallway. “I have a focus group assembled. You’ll need to convince them that you’re someone that they want to watch, someone they want to see on the screen, someone that they want to consume. Your…” Eli paused, searching for a word, “…co-star will join you. You need to secure a submission from him, but you need to remember that the submission is not the real purpose here. In the end, you need to please your fans.”
Stopping at an unmarked door, Eli pushed Sean through and closed it behind him. Sean found himself in a dark hallway with an archway a few feet in front of him. He walked through the opening, into a small room, ringed about 10 feet up by a balcony filled with men in towels. A couple of the men cheered when Sean appeared, and a few catcalled about “fresh meat,” but most of the crowd seemed uninterested. Sean walked into the room, which was covered wall to wall with wrestling mats.
A loud cheer rang out from the balcony as Sean turned to see Brad Pitt walk in, a towel around his waist and a grin on his mouth. “I hobbled away from my walker just to come here tonight and fuck you up, boy!” Brad shouted. The crowd above cheered loudly, a chant of “Brad, Brad, Brad…” breaking out.
Sean sneered in contempt, disguising a wave of fear that grabbed hold of him. Brad was more heavily muscled than Sean had ever seen him. His hair was long, his body smooth, and he was already covered in glistening sweat. Brad’s look in return, surveying Sean from head to toe, gave the impression that he was unimpressed. Sean reminded himself that he was about 18 years younger. He guessed, looking at his opponent, that he was probably also 30 pounds lighter, even though a couple of inches taller than Brad.
Brad flexed a most-muscular pose impressively, sticking out his tongue while staring Sean down. The crowd howled their approval. Brad circled to his right, Sean defensively circling away, maintaining his distance. Brad suddenly closed the distance, hooking his right arm around Sean’s head and locking his head tightly against his side. Brad flexed, and Sean groaned in pain.
Sean clenched his left fist and drove it into Brad’s lower back. Brad flinched, but maintained his headlock. Again, Sean punched him in the back. Brad pistoned his arm up and down, releasing and then re-securing his vice-like headlock harder and harder. Sean fell to one knee, beginning to see stars.
Brad twisted his body, pulling Sean off his feet and underneath him as the two came crashing to the mat, Sean’s head still trapped under Brad’s flexing bicep. Again, Brad ground his arm into Sean’s head, squeezing powerfully. Sean kicked his legs, trying to pull free, but remained pinned in place by his much larger opponent.
With Sean on his back beneath him, Brad pulled Sean’s head off the mat, then with his left fist, pounded him repeatedly in the face. Some voices from the crowd shouted down, begging Brad not to mess up “the kid’s pretty face!” Sean’s brain was rattled, as Brad released his headlock but held Sean’s head in place by a fistful of his hair. Brad ripped off his own towel, and then spun his body around, sliding Sean’s stunned head between his thighs, chin-to-crotch. A chorus of hoots and applause broke out, as Brad grabbed the back of Sean’s head and rubbed his face against his crotch.
When Sean finally began to regain his senses from Brad’s pounding, his nose was pressed painfully against Brad’s golf-ball-size balls. His head was being squeezed painfully between Brad’s smooth legs, and the only thing Sean could see was Brad’s penis growing erect directly in front of his face. Brad leaned forward on one elbow, looking down at his trapped opponent and admiring his own well-muscled body. He reached down with his free hand and stroked his cock, coaxing it harder and harder. He slapped Sean’s trapped head with his cock, taunting him. “How’s the view, kid? How does it feel to be beat senseless by this old man?”
Lacing his ankles behind Sean’s neck, Brad leaned backward, pressing his hands over his head and arching his back, applying more pressure on Sean’s beet red head. Brad’s cock was fully erect now, draped across his arched, ripped abs. Brad held his bridge for a full minute, Sean gasping and growing dizzy.
Finally, Brad dropped his hips back to the mat and unlaced his legs from around Sean’s head. Sean’s head dropped awkwardly to the mat. Brad rolled gracefully to his feet and leaned down, pulling Sean’s towel loose from his waist. Sean’s bright white ass brought more catcalls from the balcony.
Brad grabbed two fists full of Sean’s hair and dragged him to his feet. Brad twisted his torso sideways, wrapping his arms around Sean’s waist and spinning the younger fighter upside down. Brad held Sean suspended in his inverted bearhug, hopping up and down on the balls of his feet as Sean’s legs flopped weakly in the air. Brad looked up at the crowd through Sean’s legs, spread-eagled in front of him. “What would you like to see!?” Brad shouted. Voices shouted from the balcony, “Piledrive him!” “Feed him your cock!” “Powerslam him!”
Brad answered, “I heard the piledriver first!” Brad squeezed Sean’s head, hanging helplessly upside down, between his thighs. Rising on the balls of his feet, Brad hefted Sean high in the air, then dropped to his knees, driving the top of Sean’s head into the mat. Sean’s body spasmed on impact, then slumped to the ground. The crowd erupted into cheers.
Brad crawled on top of Sean, rolling Sean onto his back. Slapping Sean in the face, Brad cooed, “Not yet. Stay with me now. We’re not quite done yet, kid.” Then Brad picked a nearly unconscious Sean again up by the hair, bringing him unsteadily to his feet. Hooking one arm between Sean’s legs from behind and wrapping his other hand around Sean’s chin, Brad lifted his opponent across his shoulders in a rack-backbreaker. Sean’s eyes flashed open as his back was stretched painfully backward across Brad’s shoulders. Brad grabbed hold of Sean’s flaccid cock, squeezing it sharply. Sean cried out in pain. Bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, Brad walked around the room, showing off his prey trapped on his shoulders. The crowd chanted again, “Brad, Brad, Brad…”
Brad returned to the center of the room and pressed Sean straight up over his head, his right hand latched onto Sean’s ass and his left hand squeezing the back of Sean’s neck. Sean hung limply in the air for what seemed to him an eternity. Finally, Brad threw Sean down to the mat. Landing hard on his back, Sean bounced off the mat, before landing again, his right hand pressed defensively against his injured lower back.
Brad dropped to his knees, straddling Sean’s shoulders, facing Sean’s feet. Reaching forward and grabbing Sean’s right leg, Brad pressed his knees into Sean’s shoulders and folded Sean’s right leg over his head. Completely immobilized, Sean shouted, “I submit!” Brad laughed, maintaining his hold.
“You’ll submit when you kiss my ass,” Brad snarled. Shifting his weight backward, Brad placed his muscled butt directly in front of Sean’s chin. Sean growled, “Fuck you!” Brad smiled up toward the balcony and winked. The crowd went wild shouting encouragement to Brad.
Brad released Sean’s leg and began pounding his fists down on Sean’s exposed abdomen. Left, right, left, right… Brad brought his fists crashing down. Sean weakly tried to pull his knees upward to shield his midsection, but Brad dismissively pushed them aside and continued his assault. Eventually Brad ceased the pounding. He then grabbed Sean’s nipples and kneaded them between his thumb and index fingers, twisting and squeezing. Sean moaned loudly, his eyes pressed closed and his head rolling from side to side.
“I said that you’ll submit when you kiss my ass, boy!” Brad shouted. The crowd began to chant hungrily, “Kiss it, kiss it, kiss it…”
Sean tried to twist his torso, but his shoulders were pinned firmly to the mat beneath Brad’s knees, his entire bodyweight holding his opponent down. Twisting Sean’s left nipple harder, Brad began rubbing Sean’s sweaty torso with his right hand. Then Brad drew his right hand up to stroke his own hard cock already vertical and at attention between his legs. Brad noticed that Sean’s cock was flaccid. “I’m so disappointed that you aren’t enjoying this nearly as much as I am,” he sneered, slapping Sean’s crotch.
Sean groaned, “Let me go. Let me go.” Brad flexed his ass repeatedly, then said, “Kiss… my… ass… boy!”
Sean tried to squirm one more time from beneath his opponent, but Brad held him in place. Finally, Sean began to strain, lifting his head off the mat. The crowd grew hushed in anticipation. Sean pursed his lips and gave Brad’s right butt check a quick peck. His head dropped quickly back to the mat.
Brad chuckled, “I did NOT feel the love, Sean. I want a real kiss, and I want it right in my crack!” Brad shouted. Light applause indicated the crowd’s approval, as an intense hush fell over them again.
Sean sighed deeply, then lifted his head off the mat again. Pursing, he pressed his lips high up on the crack of Brad’s muscled ass. He held his lips pressed against Brad’s crack solidly, then began to pull away. But as he did, Brad shifted backward farther, sitting squarely across Sean’s face. Sean’s mouth and nose were trapped deep up Brad’s crack, as Brad flexed his ass repeatedly, squeezing Sean’s trapped face. Sean groaned loudly, muffled beneath his opponent’s body. Sean’s hands tapped frantically at the mat. The crowd erupted into applause.
Brad slowly raised himself to stand, his feet straddling Sean’s face. He raised his arms in victory as the crowd chanted, “Brad, Brad, Brad…”
After Brad and the crowd exited the room, still chanting and applauding, Sean rolled to his side, then dragged himself to lean his back against the wall. Panting, exhausted, rubbing his head and his abs, Sean was slow to gather his wits about him. He was completely humiliated.
Eli eventually walked into the room, still dressed only in a towel wrapped around his waist. Eli squatted down next to Sean, leaning against the wall.
“Well, Sean,” Eli said. “That was a disappointing performance. I’m afraid my concerns about your PR skills were well-founded. The crowd did appreciate your body, but they were not at all impressed with your performance. Several of them commented that they were appalled that you could have Brad ass in your face with your opponent playing with your nipples, and you weren’t even partially erect. There’s a serious credibility problem that you have with this audience.”
Sean growled, “Shut up, Eli.”
“I’ve cancelled release of your latest two projects. They’ll stay in the can until your talent has ripened a bit more. In the meantime, I’ve booked you on the reality show, “The Next Top Male Model.” I think that’s your best bet for market success right now… look pretty on TV, and maybe you’ll develop some new skills with time. Now get yourself cleaned up and be on the set of your new show next week.”
Eli stood and walked out of the room without looking back.